


You Play Up to Them (But They're Not Around)

by overratedantihero



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Daddy Issues, M/M, Mention of Prostituting Out Your Brother, No Refractory Period, Overstimulation, Pillow Talk, Sibling Banter, Silly, sex quirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick discovers Slade's bedroom quirk.





	You Play Up to Them (But They're Not Around)

**Author's Note:**

> The smut is so very brief and it is overall so very silly, forgive me.

The first time it happened, Dick thought it was a fluke.

It had been late, they’d been coming down from the adrenaline of a viscous fight, the sex had been long and languid, and when it ended, Dick didn’t have any expectations. He’d rolled over, snagged a pillow to curl around, and waited for the tell-tale rustle and loss of warmth that meant Slade was leaving.

Except, Slade hadn’t left.

Dick had craned his neck to glance over. Slade had been stretched out, eyes half lidded, breathing deep and relaxed. He hadn’t even looked asleep, just… at ease. Dick had known Slade to be calm, to be controlled, to be casually confident. Never at ease.

Dick had rolled over and wiggled closer, to test these foreign waters. Slade hadn’t moved, and so Dick had abandoned his pillow to wrap around Slade instead, their sweat slick, blood stained, sex filthy bodies molding together nicely. Dick’s touch had been hesitant, ginger, at first, but then Slade had rested a heavy hand on his back and so Dick curled up closer.

It had been sweet and tender, and it had only lasted for as long as it took Slade to drift to sleep and then wake up again.

The next time they’d had sex had been rougher, it’d been mean. They’d clawed and bit at each other, spitting terribly acidic insults and gnawing at old wounds. When they’d finished, Dick was still shaking and riled, eyes blown and agitated. He’d expected the same of Slade.

Except, like before, Slade had relaxed into the mattress, eyes half lidded, breathing even. Dick had straddled his hips, fully intending on starting a fight, on shaking Slade from placidity, but Slade had sat up and easily snagged Dick’s wrists. He’d plucked Dick off his body and laid him out on the bed, rolling over to lay on top of Dick to keep him down.

And then he’d gone deadweight, back into that post-sex meditative state of his, and Dick was left pouting and little smushed.

Dick needed to stop sleeping with Slade. He told Slade as such, while bouncing in Slade’s lap. Slade pulled out, flipped them over, and pushed Dick’s thighs back until Dick obligingly crossed his ankles behind his own head. Slade pushed back in and Dick’s eyes rolled.

“You’re welcome to leave,” Slade offered.

Dick opened his mouth to retort, but a moan and a little bit of drool escaped. He closed his mouth, shut his eyes in concentration, and then tried again, “Don’-Don’ wanna be like _him_ ,” Dick hissed, eyes shooting open as Slade changed their angle every so slightly. He choked out a moan and unraveled his legs to wrap around Slade’s waist instead, for leverage so that he could meet Slade’s thrusts.

Slade leaned forward and chuckled into Dick’s neck. “I can assure you, little bird, I’ve never fucked Bruce Wayne. Don’t make useless comparisons, he’s stoic and you’re so… flexible.” Slade rolled his hips to punctuate his point and Dick pulled at his own hair, biting his lip to keep from going over the edge. Slade had only come once so far; he’d need twice more before letting up on Dick, and Dick could not afford to come early. The last time that had happened had been… a bit much.

Tasting blood, Dick spluttered, “You know that’s not what I meant!”

Slade leaned down and kissed Dick, slowly and sweetly. Dick orgasmed and then let out a cry of frustration.

Afterwards, when Slade was relaxed and drifting, Dick, still shaking from the overstimulation, let the full weight of what happened fall on him.

“I’m just like him,” Dick bemoaned. “He does this! He purposefully finds violent, criminal, and emotionally unavailable women and then he has sex with them. That’s where Damian came from, that’s why he keeps getting moody over Selina. Did you know he used to send me away as Robin to go stop a robbery or to go investigate a _possible_ crime, that was never actually a crime, by the way, just so that he and Selina could have sex?”

Slade grunted.

Dick scowled. “Are you always like this after sex?”

Slade cocked his eyebrows but otherwise did not move.

“I’m never having sex with you again,” Dick threatened. Slade snorted.

“Whatever you wish, baby bird.”

 

* * *

 

“Nightwing, you and Red Hood are responsible for containing Slade Wilson. Robin, Red Robin, and I will handle Black Mask’s men.” Batman turned from the monitor to look at the assembled ex-and current Robins. Nightwing hopped down from the hood of the Batmobile, but Red Hood was already stepping forward to jab a finger in Batman’s direction.

“Black Mask is mine, old man. Don’t overreach.”

Batman opened his mouth, but Nightwing interrupted, “I agree with Red Hood.” Every one’s attention turned to him, including the cow’s. Nightwing chose to believe the cow was a coincidence. “Black Mask and Red Hood have history. Black Mask also can’t keep his cool around Red Hood, it’ll throw him off, make him easier for you, Red Robin, and Robin to intercept the cargo.” Nightwing grinned as if that made him more convincing.

There was silence for a beat and then Red Hood said, “Actually, no, I’ll go with Nightwing. Good luck with Roman, B.”

Nightwing scowled.

Later, on a roof as they tracked Slade’s movement, Nightwing couldn’t hold it in anymore: “ _Why_ would you do that? I vouched for you! I thought you wanted to fight Black Mask!”

Red Hood set down binoculars. Slade was also scoping out a target in a suite several floors below them in the building across the street; he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. “I did. But then you jumped to my defense so quick, I had to find out why you wanted to be left alone with Slade.”

“There’s no reason,” Nightwing said, dropping down and crossing his legs. “I just know I can handle Slade on my own.”

“You know how to detain Slade Wilson for hours?” Red Hood said. “Pray tell.”

Nightwing blushed. He opened his mouth. He closed it. Briefly he considered the utility of a full-face helmet. He put his motorcycle helmet on.

Red Hood sighed. “You’re fucking him, yeah?”

Nightwing didn’t say anything. Red Hood strode over and forcibly plucked the helmet away.

“Don’t encroach on my brand,” Red Hood chided. “So, what, you’re fucking a villain. Get in line.”

Nightwing cocked his head. Jason took off his own helmet to look Dick in the eyes before he chucked Dick’s helmet off the building.

“Hey!” Dick shouted, jumping to his feet. “That could have hit someone.”

Jason blinked. “Why are you being so weird. What’s your fucked up little secret for detaining Slade? Is it sex? Because that’s some weak shit, N.”

Nighwing licked his lips. “I mean, it’s sex, but he’s got this quirk. Sex like… shuts him down for several hours. He just completely relaxes. Doesn’t do anything. Borderline vegetable. It’s wild.”

“Are you suggesting prostituting yourself out to him? Because be my guest, Big Bird.”

Nightwing made a face. Jason cocked his eyebrows, so Nightwing cradled his face in his hands and elaborated through his fingers, “I can’t keep up with him right now. He’s got a non-existent refractory period, it takes three… you know. For him to be set. I usually use numbing lube, or I…yeah. Beforehand.”

“Oh? I don’t think I do know, N. Please, elaborate,” Jason offered, voice lilted. Dick glared and dropped his hands.

“Orgasms, Red Hood. Three orgasms. Happy?”

“Immensely. Now go fuck him.”

“Red Hood!” Nightwing shouted. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, pull your weight. If that’s what it takes to keep him down, then yeah. Go for it. I support you. Have fun. Wear condoms.” Jason was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Nightwing crossed his arms. “No. You insisted on going on this mission with me, you’re involved too. If I go down there, so do you.”

Jason grinned impossibly wider. “Goldie, are you proposing threesome chicken? Because that’s rich.”

Nightwing threw his hands in the air. “No! I’m proposing that you cut it out so that we can work!”

Jason frowned, looking past Nightwing, and Nightwing began to pat himself on the back for redirecting Jason’s focus back to the task at hand. But then—

“N, he’s moving. Go, c’mon,” Red Hood barked, pulling his helmet back on. Nightwing turned around. Jason was right, Slade had exited the building via window and was rapidly descending. Nightwing bounced on his heels and grinned before running and then leaping off the building, shooting his grappling hook in the last moment.

He tackled Slade not two breaths later, and Slade bent forward with the force of it.

“Little bird,” Slade grunted, slinging Nightwing off and to the ground.

“Hi,” Nightwing offered, from the concrete. “Wanna bang?” he added.

Slade’s expression was masked, but Nightwing could picture an eyebrow raise or a scowl. “No,” he said. “I’m working.”

“Yeah,” Nightwing sighed. “That’s what I thought.” Nightwing hopped to his feet, but Slade kicked out at his legs. Nightwing barely landed the backflip he threw himself into to avoid another close encounter with the concrete.

“I should break your legs,” Slade offered. “Clip your wings and keep you in a gilded cage so that I can get some fucking work done.”

Red Hood landed behind Slade with a thud. “That’s not nice, Deathstroke. We all know how much N likes his legs. Play nice, or I’ll make you.”

Slade sighed. “You brought your brother along while offering to fuck me?”

“He suggested it!” Nightwing whined, far more shrilly than intended. He cleared his throat. “But yeah. Red Hood, I rolled a 2 on seduction.”

“Oh, no, I heard,” Red Hood said, voice modulator not hiding his amusement. “Two is generous. Plan B.”

Nightwing grinned and then leaped at Deathstroke, scaling his body and tangling his legs around Slade’s neck. Slade snorted, but then Dick flopped back, using the force to tighten his grip against Slade’s trachea. Normally he’d go into a handstand, unwrap his legs as the other person fell, having had their arteries blocked enough to pass out, and then ease out of the handstand into a crouch.

But this was Slade.

Dick couldn’t quite plant his palms on the ground from where he hung, but he counted on Red Hood acting while Slade couldn’t breathe. Sure enough, he heard several thick _thuds_ and Slade grunted… before slinging himself onto his back.

With a yelp, Dick released his grip on Slade, caught himself on his hands, and rolled away right before Slade would have crushed him. The maneuver bent his back at an awkward angle and he scraped his exposed cheek good on the concrete, but he hopped to his feet.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Dick hissed. “I would say you were trying to kill me.”

A _bam_ sounded and Dick jumped, and then watched as Slade’s suit rippled and shone before deflecting the bullet into a nearby storefront. Glass shattered, and Dick winced.

“You need to disable his shield-thing!” Nightwing shouted. Deathstroke kicked out, landed on Nightwing’s side with more than one _crack_. Nightwing gasped and fell to a knee, clutching his side.

“Boys should listen to their daddies,” Deathstroke murmured, crouching down in front of Dick. “Run along, daddy’s working.”

Slade grunted as a crowbar landed across his cervical spine. He tilted his head to glance up at Jason and mutter, “Feeling ignored?”

Jason propped his crowbar on his shoulder. “You’re real creepy, anyone ever tell you that? Try flirting with someone your own age; I hear old folks’ homes are just rife with lonely singles your age.”

While Jason prattled, Dick slid an escrima stick from its sheath and pressed the point against Slade’s trachea. Slade sighed.

“And what are you doing, Dick?” He asked, without so much as batting away the escrima stick. “You’ve gotten really fixated on asphyxiation, are you saying you want to experiment?”

“Sort of,” Dick murmured, cracking a smile. “I’m actually pretty curious about electrostimulation.” He pressed a button and an electric charge shot out into Slade’s throat. Slade choked out a sound that Dick would store away for future reference. He pulled an inhibitor collar from his boot and clasped it around Slade’s throat while Slade was still spluttering.

“There’s no way that fit into your boot,” Jason deadpanned.

“No, it totally did,” Nightwing said, while the collar glowed.

“You wear a skin-tight suit, and you want me to believe that actual tools just fit into the nooks and crannies?”

“Would you believe it’s a two piece?” Dick said.  

“No.”

“It is,” Slade offered. “At least most of them are. There’s at least one that has a zipper down the back.”

Dick gently lowered himself to the concrete laying out on his right to ease pressure on his most definitely broken left ribs. “Slade, you’re oddly relaxed for someone with an inhibitor collar on. Thought you’d be more… irked.”

Slade hummed. “I fulfilled the contract earlier tonight. The cargo is protected. Not even Black Mask knows its location right now, as a part of the deal. He’ll see the profits and the unit will exchange hands without a hitch. My role here was to keep a few bats distracted to ease up on the action Black Mask will have to face.”

Dick let his face drop to the ground. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

Bootsteps began to recede and Dick jerked up. “Red Hood, where are you going?”

“To see if I can’t snag some hits on Black Mask’s men,” Red Hood called over his shoulder. “This has been a waste of my time. And your tactics need some work, Goldie.” Jason shot a grappling hook and was gone.

“What tactics?” Slade muttered. “With some polish, you’d be lethal.”  

Dick snorted. “Don’t get defensive of me now. He’s annoyed because I promised I’d try to sleep with you and that didn’t work.”

Slade was quiet for a spell. And then—“With the power inhibitor, you might stand a chance.”

“You shattered my left side. I can’t do the usual,” Dick retorted.

Slade shrugged, gestured to the collar. “Neither can I.”

Dick closed his eyes, a ‘no’ on the tip of his tongue. And then he considered how positively livid Bruce would be at the end of the night, at the end of a failed mission.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go,” Dick opened his eyes and grunted, rolling to his feet. Slade followed, placing a hand on Dick’s lower back to steady him.

“Still feel like your old man?” Slade asked him. Dick snorted.

“Right now? No. Not really.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the comics Slade's always lounging in bed after sex even if his partners are freaking out and I thought that would be an adorable little tick to have.


End file.
